


where are you taking me?

by fillertexted



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Panic Attacks, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fillertexted/pseuds/fillertexted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Without hesitation he took Jefferson’s free hand and tried his hardest to not breathe out a sigh of relief."</p><p> </p><p>aka the 'you used to take my hand when in big crowds but now it's whenever and im getting sus' au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly abt anxiety so if that bothers u pls dont read  
> theres also a panic attack at the end so

The campus was unusually crowded, and it was a bit overwhelming as he attempted to wade through the wriggling mass of fellow college students. Alexander really hoped that his anxiety wouldn’t try to skyrocket; that was  _really_ not something he could deal with while being uncomfortably close to strangers. At least no one was tall enough to block his view of where he was going. He didn’t know what would happen if he lost sight of the building. Though his chest felt heavy, and it was becoming harder to breathe, Alexander tried to ignore it as his gait became increasingly faster. Seriously, where the fuck did all these groups of people come from? It was ten in the morning on a Friday, and it had never been this terrible to get to Washington’s class before today.  And, shit. A group of people had all just stopped in the middle of the crowd, right where Alexander and lots of people behind him needed to go.

Alexander slowed his pace and felt his stomach drop when he realized that the only way around the offending group was to shove his way through the other hordes of people already flowing around them. That, or start shouting at them to move and to stop being an inconvenience, but he had promised John not twenty minutes before that he would stop getting into shouting matches in the quad. That, and he was pretty sure trying to insult twenty-plus people simultaneously would not end well. So, it seemed that he would have to go with the option that would almost definitely cause him the need to hide in the bathroom for a couple of minutes so he could splash water on his face and reteach himself how to breathe. God, this should be fun.

A quick glance around confirmed his suspicions that he didn’t know anyone who would tell him hold their hand. It was the easiest way to have something to focus on that wasn’t whatever was triggering the current attack. God, if he even knew the person he was squeezing next to it would alleviate some of the anxiety he was feeling, but alas. There was no one. No one, that is, until he spotted one Thomas Jefferson.

 Sure, he couldn’t stand the guy, and the mere thought of willing being near him was enough to make him feel annoyed, but he knew Jefferson wasn’t a complete asshole. They may be mortal enemies, but they still slightly cared about each other. They had to; otherwise they wouldn’t have such a fun sparring partner. Alexander’s decision to swallow his pride was mostly because at that point he could feel his entire person shaking and he either needed to ground himself or get the fuck off the quad that exact moment, which was impossible. He strode over as quickly as he could, darting before and behind people, before he finally, _finally_ got to Jefferson. Without hesitation he took Jefferson’s free hand and tried his hardest to not breathe out a sigh of relief. It was easy to tell Jefferson had no idea what was happening as he immediately seized up and stopped walking, eyes wide as he looked at their clasped hands before moving his gaze onto Alexander’s face, expression growing even more incredulous as he processed the fact that Alexander was the one holding his hand.

After a moment of silence, Alexander decided it was high time to explain what the fuck was going on, in case Jefferson’s face was forever immobilized with wide eyes and eyebrows nearly to his hairline. He probably wouldn’t forgive Alexander for that. Focusing on Jefferson rather than the calamity around them, he smiled apologetically and drew in a very sharp breath before he started to explain.

“Hey, so, this is really weird, right? Yeah, sorry, but the quad is kind of really busy and I’m trying to get to Washington’s class, but then a huge group of fuckwits decided that this was a great place to hold a conversation, and of course that’s fucking stupid because, like,  holy shit, there’s a lot of people here? Can you really not find somewhere else? But, like, they’re blocking a shit ton of people, and so they were all just going around, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but this place is really tiny? So, y’know, having tons of strangers just pressed really close is uncomfortable, but I saw you, and I just kinda went for it? And I’m sorry if I freaked you out, and, uh…” He blinked as he cut off his rambling.

Somehow they had managed to get across the quad and were standing before the building that led to Washington’s class. “Oh,” he said intelligently. He blinked owlishly at Jefferson before dropping his gaze at their still interlocked hands. He was surprised to find that he felt calmer and more in control than he was a few minutes ago. Normally, he had to get away completely from the stimulus, but he was only feeling mildly anxious while only being a few feet away. “Oh.”

Jefferson squeezed his hand lightly before letting go. He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder as he stepped back a pace, the familiar smug expression settling on his face. Alexander could tell it was an act though. His eyes seemed to shine with concern.

“What, I’ve rendered the great Alexander Hamilton speechless? Stop the presses; someone’s gotta inform the history books of this momentous occasion.”

Alexander decided to surprise Jefferson again. He gazed as earnestly as he could into Jefferson’s eyes and let two words fly; “Thank you.”

He looked thrown again, out of his depth. The smug expression had slipped slightly, a frown tugging at his lips. He nodded. He also looked vaguely uncomfortable, as though he hadn’t expected Alexander to be grateful. That was a tiny bit idiotic, even for Jefferson. After all, He had successfully stopped Alexander’s anxiety attack in its tracks, and had brought him to where he needed to go. Though they had Washington together, Jefferson could have easily yanked his hand out of Alexander’s grasp and stalked away. So. Alexander was grateful.

“I’d say anytime, Hamilton, but I really don’t ever want to have to have to talk to you. Ever.” Jefferson deadpanned, shifting slightly. Any other time Alexander would be ecstatic he managed to get under Jefferson’s skin, but now he felt vaguely guilty. Oh well. He just smiled at Jefferson.

“Thanks. See you in class.” At that, Alexander spun around and hurried towards the building, a small smile on his face.

Later, when Jefferson stepped into the lecture hall, he very obviously refused to look Alexander’s way, and didn’t challenge him when he quickly got heated over North Carolina’s new HB2 law, and how unmoral and barbaric it is. In fact, When Alexander’s gaze swept over the disinterested faces of the people he didn’t know well or the exasperated but fond faces of his friends, he accidentally caught the intense stare of Jefferson, an indescribable look on his face. He immediately looked away when Alexander caught him staring. Alexander filed this moment to look back at later.

 

-0-

 

They still got into heated debates, despite how Alexander was hyper aware of how Jefferson started to act weird around him.

 The latest was where Alexander was trying to defend how America would easily crash and burn if Trump was put into power. Jefferson, the smug asshole, decided to argue with him. While Washington normally just sighed and started to grade papers whenever Alexander and Jefferson started to argue, he drew the line when Jefferson had stated that Trump would best handle the position because he was flexible, and Alexander had asked if Jefferson had personal experience in Trump’s flexibility. He had promptly kicked the two out of the lecture hall, simply sending them with the instructions to come back next class and to, ‘not discuss sexual positions during a lecture.’ Even though he was missing his favorite class, Alexander couldn’t help but snicker when he saw just how hard Jefferson was blushing.

But god, if he thought that the quad was crowded before, he was dead wrong. He was already having a bad mental health day, but this would definitely make him spiral into a panic attack if he had to get closer.  It looked like every single college student had decided it was absolutely necessary they needed to be there at that exact moment. At twelve on a Saturday. Alexander wasn’t even sure if classes still happened on Saturdays. His plan to discuss his latest essay with Washington was almost immediately thrown out the window the second he caught sight of the mob that had happened. Hell, he was at least five yards away and he still had to fight down the fluttering in his heart. He had turned around to start the walk back to his dorm when an unfamiliar voice called out.

“Yo, Hamilton! Come join us!”

Oh, god. That would literally be his worst nightmare. Fuck, he didn’t even _want_ to know what the crowd was for. Still, he turned back around to face whoever was calling him over, and plastered a grin on him face. Ignoring the way he felt physically heavier with every step he took, and the way panic was quickly gaining a vice grip on his lungs, he strode over to the person who called him; someone he vaguely recognized from one of his classes. He didn’t remember which one, his brain felt hazy and he _really_ didn’t want to be there. Fuck, this was a mistake. He was pretty sure it would be rude to just run away, so he forced himself to final few steps and was warmly welcomed, complete with cheers from some people close to the edge of the crowd, a pat on the back, and a physical shove into the madness.

Well, fuck. This was _definitely_ worse. He couldn’t focus, white noise filling his ears and his eyesight blurred slightly. He was so very close to having a panic attack in public and _god_ was he stupid for not pretending he couldn’t hear that person. His heart felt like it was hammering out of his chest, his breathing was choked and fast, and he was quickly losing control over himself. He felt like he was both floating and chained to the ground.

He was pretty sure he stumbled into someone based off of the curse he was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to sound muffled. He honestly couldn’t tell what was going on anymore. He just felt fuzzy, heavy, and the word _fuck_. He was pretty sure he was crying, but he had closed his eyes. He felt disjointed from his body.

It could have been moments or hours when he was suddenly aware of the fact that his hand was warmer than it should be. He also noticed he had somehow started walking. He wasn’t sure how, he could physically see that he was shaking and his knees felt ready to buckle at every step. He closed his eyes again and willed himself to _chill the fuck out_. God, he was already embarrassed that he couldn’t keep his chill, but through the fuzziness he realized that someone was probably leading him somewhere, and he just felt more embarrassed, more stupid.

They stopped walking and Alexander’s knees buckled, and he collapsed ungracefully on the ground. He hugged his knees to his chest and let his head drop, forced himself to ignore the fact someone else was witnessing him being so weak and just focused on breathing. He was definitely crying at this point, mind vaguely registering the wetness on the knees of his jeans and the way his breath kept catching.

Someone warm and solid was next to him, and an arm was thrown around his quivering shoulders. He quickly leaned into them, attempting desperately to stop shaking, to ground himself.

As he slowly got his breathing under control, he became aware that the person next to him was talking lowly, voice rumbling their chest. That, combined with the weight on his shoulders, was what made him finally break out of the fuzziness that clouded him. He pulled away, making the arm fall. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. Unfolding himself, he scrubbed roughly at his face with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He wasn’t sure he could face his savior. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

As it turned out, his savior wasn’t as indecisive. The arm was placed back on his shoulders and he was pulled into their chest again. He didn’t have the energy to fight it. He used his sleeves to cover his face.

“Hamilton.”

Oh, _shit_. He immediately tried to pull away, stiff and beyond embarrassed. Not only had he had a panic attack in public, his savior was _Thomas fucking Jefferson_.

God, how was he supposed to face his enemy, the guy he’s despised since the beginning, after this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u know that feel when u wanna write but u cant so you just kinda fail but post it anyways?? thats what this is
> 
> someone wanted more jamilton so i have delivered i guess?? sorry its not fluff
> 
> feel free to point out any mistakes bc im sure theres a lot
> 
> ill prob update in the next few days bc i cant help myself lol
> 
> hmu on my tumblr: [fillertexted](http://fillertexted.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

Alexander currently had two options. One, he could attempt to trust his still trembling legs and hope to god that when they gave out he would be far enough away that he could have a second attack in private. Two, he could curl up into the tiniest ball imaginable and pray to anything and everything that the ground would swallow him up.

Of course, Jefferson is an asshole and plays by his own rules, and therefore makes his own options. The entitled prick decided to once again place and arm over his shoulders, but stayed silent. Alexander was unwilling to admit that he still needed to be grounded. After a few moments, it became clear that Jefferson was waiting for Alexander to say something. He opened his eyes and was greeted with the view of a small empty classroom. His gaze dropped onto himself, and he saw that he once again had his knees tight to his chest, and there were wet marks on them. He hugged them tighter.

Both of them were not very patient people. Alexander wished he had the energy to just stand up, brush himself of the unidentifiable things that littered college classroom floors, and flip Jefferson off, but he was exhausted. He didn’t think he even had the energy to involuntarily shake. It made him even more nervous to think that Jefferson would definitely want to talk about it, and that was a conversation Alexander avoided like the plague, even with his closet friends. They didn’t need to know why he panicked in large crowds. They didn’t need to know why he was absolutely fine during protests and rallies, fine with getting on stage with bigots to yell at them, why he could be so outgoing and charismatic but the second he was in a large crowd with no purpose he immediately felt like he was suffocating. That was something he often tried to avoid even thinking about.

It seemed as though Jefferson was uncomfortable with the silence that was around them. When he began to speak, Alexander wanted to reach out and grasp the shattered quiet, to try and build it around him. Jefferson seemed persistent that there was no silence, however. Alexander closed his eyes.

“Hamilton, I know you probably don’t want to talk, but this is important.”

God, he sounded sure of himself, but also hesitant. Alexander didn’t want to know what Jefferson wanted, didn’t need to know because he was already sure it was going to be the dreaded _what’s wrong, are you okay, what happened?_ He didn’t want that.

“If you don’t want to talk, though, that’s okay. You can just nod or shake your head.”

He was considerate, but they were almost at the dreaded questions. Ones he had no desire to answer.

“Can you hear me?”

And _what?_ That wasn’t the question Alexander was prepared for. Confused, he inclined his head slightly. He wasn’t sure if Jefferson could tell he had nodded.

“Can you feel what’s going on to your body?”

Seriously, what’s with these questions? Again, he nodded, more than a little confused.

“Can you see what’s in front of you?”

Alexander just nodded without opening his eyes. Jefferson didn’t seem bothered, and he continued.

“Can you smell that really cheap perfume someone obviously dropped?”

Alexander hadn’t noticed before, but Jefferson was right. Now that he was aware of it, the smell seemed to be wrapped around them. It was a cloying scent and Alexander wasn’t sure how anyone could like it enough to wear it. He felt sick. He nodded.  He didn’t know what Jefferson was getting at. God, did he want to know, but it would probably pertain both looking at and responding verbally to Jefferson. It seemed to be too much. But he was curious, and his curiosity was almost always unsatisfiable.

He clenched his hands into fists and opened his eyes. He took a steadying breath before looking at Jefferson before his brain could shout at him that it was a bad idea.

However, Jefferson was merely relaxed against the wall, long legs sprawled out before him, head tipped against the wall. His eyes were closed, but when he felt Alexander move, he cracked one open. His expression was blank, and Alexander had never felt more nervous when he was dealing with Jefferson.

“Hey, welcome back. How are you feeling?”

Alexander was momentarily stunned. Though it wasn’t phrased like _are you okay_ , it was essentially the same thing, and Alexander was ready to avoid at all costs. He decided to ask his own question.

“Why did you ask me those specific questions?”

If Jefferson was surprised, he didn’t show it, He merely sat up straighter, opened both eyes, and completely faced Alexander. His face was still blank, but his eyes seemed to be amused yet concerned. Alexander didn’t know how to feel.

“They’re grounding questions, especially useful for people who suffer from panic attacks. They’re a way to concentrate on something other than the panic.”

Alexander wasn’t sure what answer he was looking for, but it definitely wasn’t that. How did he even know Alexander was having a panic attack? Alexander had had very close calls, but he always managed to hide somewhere when he was having a panic attack, specifically so they wouldn’t know something was wrong with him. How did he know?

“How the fuck did you know I was having a panic attack? Why do you know those questions?”

Jefferson blinked, probably a little thrown from the harshness of Alexander’s tone. Oh, well. Not his fault he was terrified the one time he had a panic attack in public it was in front of the person he despised. Jefferson hummed, and turned his gaze up to the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Jemmy has panic attacks a lot, so he taught me. I know that everyone experiences the symptoms in different ways, but the questions seem to help most people out. I didn’t know you had anxiety problems, Hamilton.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Alexander hissed, the lingering embarrassment flaring up, making him blush. It just made him angry. At himself, for being so weak. At Jefferson, for being so understanding. Fuck him. He shoved his arm off of his shoulders, ignoring how his skin seemed to become impossibly colder without it there. He stood up, using the wall for support. He was glad his legs only seemed vaguely weak. He could get back to his dorm like this.

Jefferson’s face looked stricken, and he reached up, trying to grab Alexander’s hand, but he stepped away, ignoring the lightheadedness. God, his face seemed to be burning by how hard he was blushing, but he just kept his eyes downcast. He strode over to the door, trying to not think about Jefferson’s face, or the fact that he had just called out his name in the saddest tone Alexander had ever heard him use. It was unnerving, and something Alexander was not going to deal with anytime soon. He opened the door with some difficulty because _when the hell did these get heavier my_ _god_ , and was soon walking away from the room where it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha the next chapter will be very long, so ill update in a couple of days prob  
> hmu on tumblr: [fillertexted](http://fillertexted.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo, theres a panic attack in this chapter. it ends after the lil -0-

He managed to get to his dorm without attracting any attention, and fuck was he thankful for that. He thanked all the gods he could think of that his dorm was empty. He wasn’t sure he could handle anyone seeing him like this. Well, anyone besides Jefferson. Fuck Jefferson. Fuck him for caring. He drifted over to his room and closed the door, leaning against it.

It wasn’t until Alexander was taking off his sweatshirt with shaking hands when he realized he had lost his backpack. He physically slapped himself, because _really?_ It had his laptop and all the work he did physically. If he didn’t get it back he would definitely be fucked. He didn’t have enough money to shell out whenever, and his income was already tight. Being a freelance journalist was fun, but not when he needed more money than he had saved. God, what was he going to do?

He barely noticed when he had slid to the ground. One moment he was fine, and the next sobs were wracking his frame. He knew trying to calm down from this was pointless. He was such a fuck up. He had been so careful, careful keeping his issues under wraps, careful keeping his belongings with him at all times, but he had fucked up so bad. He didn’t know how he was going to recover from this; his laptop had all of his articles, all of his essays, all of _him_. He had been using it for years, it had been with him since he had gotten to America and his first foster care family gifted it to him.

Now it was gone, probably lost in the mob, maybe broken irreversibly. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs felt like they were on fire. He couldn’t get a hold of himself, breaths too fast and shallow and tears carving paths of fire down his face. He stopped thinking and let the panic take over.

 

-0-

 

He had no idea how much time had passed. He was exhausted. He was still shaking, but at least he had stopped crying. He felt like he was floating, mind finally quiet but cloudy. He felt slightly unreal, as though some part of him had decided to fuck off. He didn’t blame it.

There was something happening near his leg. It was a sensation he knew, but he couldn’t place it. He opened his eyes, thankful that his room wasn’t that bright. He looked down.

Oh. It was his phone. The sensation was the vibration from an incoming notification. The screen was still lit. He picked it up.

**_Macaroni Man_ **

_u left ur backpack. want me 2 bring it 2 u?_

Huh.

**_AdotHam_ **

_Yeah. Do you know my room number?_

**_Macaroni Man_ **

_411 right???_

**_AdotHam_ **

_Yeah._

**_Macaroni Man_ **

_brt_

 

Well. Glad to know that his backpack isn’t lost in that terrifying sea of people. Why had he agreed to let Jefferson come over? He was exhausted, a part of him was still ten feet off the ground, and he was sure he was a mess. He sighed. He had dealt with exhaustion before, self-inflicted and otherwise, but it seemed even his bones were resisting the thought of talking to Jefferson. He just had to push himself through it. He couldn’t get anywhere in life if he constantly shut down. He stood up.

And promptly fell back to the ground. Fuck, that hurt. The floor was hard and unforgiving, and his legs were numb. How had he not noticed before? Pins and needles took the opportunity to shoot through his legs, and god was it painful. Would trying to stretch make it better or worse? He didn’t want to risk it. He decided to just wait it out and tried to find something to distract him from the pain.

Scanning his room, he spotted his previously discarded sweatshirt in a haphazard pile near his desk. Sweatshirts were good. They made him feel safe, like a portable blanket, or hug. Definitely needed right now, he had started to feel shaky again.

Oversized and light gray, it dwarfed his small hunger-pang frame, and was his favorite. Somehow, the lining was still soft, and Alexander knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He appreciated it, especially now, when everything seemed overwhelming. It was a nice constant in his whirlwind of a life.

Attempt number two to stand went a lot better. Though his legs were still tingling, he could actually feel the ground under him, and barely swayed. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to open the door to go down to the communal bathroom. If he wanted to look presentable he knew he needed to calm the flush that he could still feel adorning his face. Well, here goes nothing.

The halls were silent; his footsteps seemed impossibly loud as he padded off to the bathroom. It was better this way, though. The less human contact he had today the better. He pushed open the bathroom door.

It too was devoid of people, and he stumbled his way over to the sinks, clutching at the countertop as dizziness suddenly overtook him. What the fuck. _Dehydration_ , chimed a small voice in his head. Alexander sighed and hoped it wouldn’t cause a headache to pound behind his eyes. Lord knows he couldn’t deal with that too.

Bloodshot eyes met him in the mirror, and he recoiled. Well, he normally looked terrible, but this was a new low, even for him. Face pale and slightly gaunt, dark circles prominent and puffy, clashing horribly with the redness of his eyes and cheeks. Good to know he resembled the mess he truly was inside. Time to get to work.

Sluggishly, he tore a paper towel, and drenched it in ice cold water. Wringing it out the best he could without tearing it, he pressed it to his face. It felt nice. He slumped over slightly, hip pressed against the hard surface. He halfheartedly wiped his face.

He checked his phone after a couple of minutes. Jefferson had texted him five minutes ago, and knowing him, it was probably time Alexander headed back. He chanced a glance at the mirror.

The under eye circles were still prominent, but that was nothing new. The puffiness had disappeared. Though his eyes were still bloodshot, they looked better. The flush in his cheeks had gone down dramatically. Alexander paused, closed his eyes. He took a moment to gather himself and his thoughts, and shoved away from the sinks. He crushed the wet paper towel into the best ball he could manage, and shot it towards the trash can. He made it, but just barely. He took it as a sign that things would start to go well.

He began the short shuffle from the bathroom back to his room when his phone buzzed again, and Alexander checked it.

**_Macaroni Man_ **

_nearly there, 5 mins_

**_AdotHam_ **

_Take your time._

**_Macaroni Man_ **

_4 mins_

 

Alexander snorted. Of course Jefferson would take anything Alexander said as a challenge, and of course he would be offended that Alexander told him to take his time. That was probably the most ironic thing Alexander had ever said, and he chuckled quietly as he reentered his room. Nothing to do but collapse on the couch and await Jefferson’s arrival.

Head nestled into one arm rest, legs slightly tucked up to his chest, Alexander reflected on his and Jefferson’s relationship. He still hated him, he was too arrogant, too sure of himself, overly confident, and so narcissistic it was slightly concerning. But he was also coming to see him in a different light. Jefferson was a bit careless when it came to sensitive topics, but Alexander could tell it wasn’t out of malice. He simply put things bluntly and it sometimes came out wrong. Sure, he argued with Alexander about everything under the sun, but he seemed to know when Alexander didn’t want anyone to challenge him, couldn’t handle anyone challenging him, and would either not start anything, or quietly admit defeat.

He had let Alexander hold his hand. He let him do it twice. Not only that, but he helped him through a panic attack. He didn’t mention it when he texted him. Alexander really didn’t know what to make of it. Jefferson’s behavior was strange, and Alexander was totally out of his depth. He didn’t know how to deal with a Jefferson who seemed concerned about him, a Jefferson who Alexander apparently hurt when he got defensive and left in the classroom, a Jefferson who knew just how important Alexander’s backpack was, and texted him about it.

The whole texting thing was weird. If he unlocked his phone and scrolled up, he could easily read the insults that they told each other as if it was as easy as breathing. Never had they had a civil conversation over text, where Alexander tended to insult Jefferson’s informal typing, yet would send meme after meme at two am just to make his phone buzz like crazy and force Jefferson awake. Jefferson often sent text after text of poorly articulated insults, yet would send an email nearly every week detailing what he hated about Alexander. Normally, Alexander would jokingly grade them, fixing grammar mistakes and always adding comments. He felt a small jolt when he realized that Jefferson hadn’t sent one of those emails in nearly a month. Why?

He was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of knocking. He rolled off the couch, and prepared himself for whatever the hell Thomas Jefferson was. In quick strides, he reached the door, and wasted no time in pulling it open. As expected, Jefferson was there with his backpack. As not expected, Jefferson was also there with coffee and his own laptop tucked under his arm. It set Alexander slightly on edge, but he simply opened the door wider and stepped aside to let him in.

Jefferson flashed him a small smile, and it made Alexander’s chest clench slightly. He didn’t want to know why. He simply followed him as Jefferson swaggered over to the couch, and set everything on the coffee table before sitting down, drawing his laptop closer to him as he flipped open the lip. The laptop didn’t seem to be new, but it had a large screen. Alexander hesitantly sat beside him, eyeing the coffee. Without looking at him, Jefferson slid it towards him, continuing to type into what looked like the search bar on Google Chrome.

Alexander picked up the coffee, silently reveling at the soft warmth it radiated. God, he was tired. He snorted before he could stop himself when he spotted the Starbucks logo; of course Jefferson liked Starbucks. Speaking of, Jefferson had turned at the noise, and was looking questionally at him. Eyes still trained on the cup in his hands, Alexander silently turned the logo towards Thomas, who just smiled at him. Alexander hoped that whatever expression he could vaguely see in his peripheral vision wasn’t fondness. He still didn’t know how to deal with that either.

“What is this?” Alexander’s voice was rough, throat dry. He would have tried to clear it, but he knew it was useless. Instead, he turned his gaze away from the cup and onto Jefferson. Shit. It wasn’t fondness, per se, but it was damn close. Alexander suddenly felt uncomfortable, and returned his gaze to the cup. Beside him, Jefferson chuckled softly.

“It’s coffee. Specifically, it’s a white chocolate mocha, because you seem like the type of person who would enjoy those.”

Alexander didn’t know what the gentle dig meant. Was he supposed to be offended? _Could_ he be offended by Jefferson assuming what his coffee order was? He had no clue. Besides, he had never tried a white chocolate mocha before. He took a timid sip.

And wow, Jefferson wasn’t wrong. Though he didn’t particularly like Starbucks coffee, this was pretty decent. He took a bigger sip and tried to ignore the way Jefferson was obviously studying his face for his reaction. He felt slightly exposed, and immediately felt stupid for it. Why did he feel like that? Fuck Jefferson for being so confusing. Alexander took another sip before returning his attention to Jefferson.

“It’s okay. Better than I expected from Starbucks.” There was a silent _thank you_ hidden in his tone and he hoped Jefferson picked up on it. It seemed he had, and positively _preened_. There wasn’t a better word for the way a self-satisfied smirk found its way onto his face, or the way he actually puffed out his chest. What a ridiculous man. Alexander felt himself hiding an amused smile.

“I knew you would like it. I called it. Was I right, or was I right, Hamilton? Don’t answer, we both know I was right.”

God. What a ridiculous sentence. Alexander didn’t bother trying to stifle his snort this time, and it only made Jefferson’s smirk grow wider. He turned back to his laptop, and Alexander took another sip of the coffee. The silence that followed was comfortable, and Alexander decided to stop questioning what was happening between him and Jefferson. He rubbed at his eyes. He was so tired. The coffee wasn’t helping as quickly as he wanted. Jefferson made some sort of pleased noise, and Alexander peeled his eyes open again, looking at him in question.

“We’re watching Netflix. Do you have any suggestions?” Jefferson was looking at him, head tilted slightly. So that’s why he brought it. Alexander resisted the urge to sigh and instead hummed, fingers tapping lightly on the cup still in his hand. He shrugged.

“Parks and Rec? I don’t really care, though.” His voice was quiet. He really just wanted to sleep. His eyes slipped closed again. Jefferson hummed. He heard the clicking of keys and waited until the opening theme played before he reluctantly opened heavy eyelids. Jefferson had chosen the infamous ice rink campaign, or the ‘most second hand embarrassment to end all second hand embarrassment ever,’ to quote John. He relaxed further into the couch, putting his cup on the table and pulling his knees up to rest his head on his knees.

He could feel Jefferson’s gaze on him, and it felt red hot. Suddenly, he threw an arm across his shoulders, and Alexander stiffened. Okay.  He forced himself to relax, and leaned into Jefferson. Okay. Whatever. He was tired, Jefferson was warm, and Parks and Rec was a calming background noise. His eyes slid shut again, and he rested his head against the crook of Jefferson’s neck. He couldn’t be bothered to figure out what this meant.

Jefferson sighed a bit, and shifted, taking Alexander with him. Alexander let himself be manhandled, and was soon half on top of Jefferson, face still in the crook of his neck. An arm was wrapped around his waist, and he felt warm and safe. The last thing he recalled before he drifted off was long fingers lacing together with his own. He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really dont know where im taking this but after this its gonna be fluffy af  
> lmao this will prob end up to be another 2 chapters but well see  
> hmu on tumblr: [fillertexted](http://fillertexted.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

They didn’t talk about that afternoon. They still argued nearly every day, still got on each other’s nerves, but it seemed more caring, gentle almost. Their arguments went from heated to barely warm. Once, Jefferson had snapped at someone who insulted Alexander to his face, and the other person was so surprised he actually apologized. Alexander still didn’t know what to make of any of it.

To make matters worse, it seemed like Jefferson instinctually knew when Alexander needed to venture out into large crowds, and practically materialized next to him every time. They didn’t talk about how every time Alexander would grab his hand, and how every time Jefferson would it squeeze lightly. They didn’t talk about a lot of things, but it was practically all Alexander could think about, thoughts whirling. Often times, it gave him a headache.

Of course, Jefferson just made it worse the day he sidled up to Alexander’s side and interlocked their fingers. Alexander stopped walking, and turned to face him with wide eyes. Jefferson merely raised an eyebrow, a silently daring him to ask. Alexander glanced down at their hands before looking around for a crowd he had thought was nonexistent. Of course, there wasn’t one, and the fact that Jefferson just came over to hold hands set mind quietly buzzing. He was so confused. He looked up at Jefferson again.

“What’s your next class?”

So they were doing the ‘not mentioning it’ thing. Alright, Alexander could handle that. Totally. He wasn’t desperately trying to lie to himself, nope, no way.

“I have Lee. Why, are you going to escort me?” Though Alexander meant it as a joke, he was really hoping Jefferson would say yes. He didn’t dwell on why.

Jefferson hummed, and started walking. Well, that answers that. Alexander simply walked by his side, cautiously letting their hands swing between them. Jefferson seemed to find this funny for whatever reason. Alexander had opened his mouth to ask, but Jefferson beat him to it.

“Careful, Hamilton, I might just try to fling you into the sun.”

Jesus, what a nerd. He was quoting one of the posts Alexander had sent him a couple of nights ago, a less than subtle conversation starter as to why Jefferson just let him hold his hand. All it spurred, however, was a wall of emojis from Jefferson. It was an ultimately unsuccessful attempt to talk. Alexander was not above also quoting stupid posts, though, and responded in turn.

“Well, joke’s on you fucker, I’m not letting go.” To prove this, Alexander gripped his hand tighter, and started to swing them with more force. Jefferson just snickered, shooting a soft smile at Alexander. It made his heart beat faster, and suddenly it all clicked together. Why he felt weird when Jefferson was nice to him. Why he didn’t try to force a conversation between them like he would with anyone else. Why he was happy when Jefferson let him hold his hand.

Shit. Alexander had a crush. On Jefferson. Alexander Hamilton had a crush on Thomas Jefferson.

He tore his hand away from Jefferson as though he had been burned and shoved it into his pocket. It felt as though the world had shifted, had tilted a couple of degrees. Fuck his life. He knew that if he looked over, Jefferson would have a bewildered expression on his face, and definitely would have concern shining in his eyes. He didn’t want that. Didn’t like that he was the cause. He stopped walking and turned his gaze to the sidewalk.

Alexander had no words to say to Jefferson. He couldn’t think of anything _to_ say. He was thrown, and he couldn’t deal with this.

“Ham-“ Alexander shook his head sharply. He didn’t want to hear anything out of Jefferson’s mouth, couldn’t handle it if he said something. He shook his head again, purely because he had nothing else to do. Took another deep breath. Faced Jefferson. As expected, he looked adorably confused and concerned. Alexander cursed his brain for thinking that. He shook his head again and stalked past Jefferson, shrugging off the hand that brushed his arm.

God, Alexander was well and truly fucked.

 

-0-

 

He had been jittery in class, unable to focus. He didn’t even start an argument with Lee, which was a miracle to everyone involved. If anyone cared that for once in his life Alexander had been silent, they didn’t show it. Lee seemed smug that he could finally unleash his derogative opinions on unwilling students, and proceeded to take most of the class detailing why reverse racism was a real issue, and then somehow tied it in with complaining about Beyoncé’s Lemonade. Alexander stopped listening five minutes in. All he could focus on was the fact that he had a fucking crush on the guy who he had hated since nearly day one.

Lee’s voice was an irritating monotonous drone, and just added to the calamity in his head. He dragged his hands down his face. He could admit that he had a crush, but that meant nothing to their relationship. Jefferson probably didn’t like him back. Sure, he had gone from actively hating Alexander to being almost protective of him, but he acted the same to Madison. They were basically joined at the hip, and were so close people actually thought they were dating, and were surprised when Madison told them that, no, him and Jefferson weren’t dating, they were just good friends. Alexander certainly had been. God, Jefferson was probably just acting like this because he knew about his anxiety and it reminded him of Madison.

What an asshole. Alexander wasn’t a charity case, he didn’t want pity. He didn’t need it. He didn’t spend years of his life throwing himself into his work, hiding his problems, forcing himself to act alright to get _pitied_ by his enemy. Alexander had no desire to let that continue. All he had to do was distance himself, stop being so buddy-buddy with Jefferson. No problem. It might hurt, but he didn’t want Jefferson’s pity. Fuck that.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the relative silence around him broke with a loud clap of sound; people excitedly chattering to their friends. He shook his head. Now would be an awful time to get overwhelmed. He quickly gathered his stuff and ignored the flow of people around him. He only looked up when he heard a call of his name, but he just started walking faster when he saw it was Jefferson. Jefferson, who was still catching up to him. Alexander cursed his short legs. A hand caught his and his breath caught.

There was only one way out of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arent cliffhangers fun lmao  
> anyways next chapter will def be last, and hopefully mostly fluff  
> hmu on tumblr: [fillertexted](http://fillertexted.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

Jefferson, however, still had the annoying tendency to fuck up Alexander’s plans.

“Hamilton, what the hell?”

Alexander shot him the coldest look he could muster. Jefferson still looked confused, but also hurt. Good.

“What do you mean, ‘what the hell?’ I don’t need to explain myself to you, _Jefferson_.” He spat out the others’ name like poison, and Jefferson recoiled. He still had a steady grip on Alexander’s hand, though. Damn. Alexander would need to dial it up.

“I mean, why did you suddenly run off like that? Did I do something? Because I’m not a mind reader, you know, if something is bothering you, you need to tell me,” Jefferson scoffed, voice rising. People were looking over now, some disinterested when they saw it was only Hamilton and Jefferson, some intrigued by what Jefferson had said. Alexander swallowed nervously. He didn’t want to do this public.

He rubbed his free hand harshly against his face, attempting to quickly reign in his thoughts and emotions. He pulled his hand out of Jefferson’s grasp. He was slightly disappointed Jefferson let him go easily.

“We aren’t doing this here. Let’s go to my room.” His tone left no argument, and Alexander was immensely relieved Jefferson just nodded tightly in response.  Alexander stalked off to his dorm, acutely aware of Jefferson keeping pace beside him, and the looks he kept shooting him. Alexander rounded his shoulders and walked faster. It hurt, but he needed to end this relationship with Jefferson.

All too soon, they arrived at Alexander’s room. With surprisingly steady hands, Alexander unlocked the door and stepped inside, moving on autopilot as he dropped off his backpack and keys. Jefferson stood hesitantly in the doorframe, and Alexander impatiently waved him over as he walked over to the couch. He made a conscious effort to keep his body language closed off and angry.

The door clicked softly as Jefferson finally stepped fully into the room. Alexander glared at him, and Jefferson hurried to sit softly beside Alexander on the couch, biting his lip. Alexander forced himself to not stare, and instead busied himself by crossing his arms and tucking a leg underneath himself to comfortably face Jefferson, keeping a carefully blank yet heated expression. Jefferson licked his lips before opening his mouth, but Alexander intercepted him just to be rude.

“So.”

“So.”

They maintained eye contact until Jefferson broke it by glancing down at his fidgeting hands. Just looking at how uncomfortable and nervous Jefferson was made his own anxiety rise, so Alexander squared his shoulders. It was time. He ignored his own preemptive heartbreak and began.

“Why are you so bothered that I didn’t want to hold your hand, Jefferson? In fact, why have you been talking to me?”

Jefferson looked like he was going to interject, eyebrows furrowed slightly and mouth ajar. Alexander steamrolled on.

“You do know that I can’t stand you, right? Why do you think I argue with you? Well, besides your terrible opinions, anyway. Finally realized that I’m better than you? You’re an arrogant showoff; I’d be surprised if anyone did more than just tolerate you.”

Jefferson was obviously taken aback, jaw slack, eyes wide. Alexander felt something break in his chest, but he kept going, voice growing in volume.

“I mean, really, what do you contribute to peoples’ lives? Insults? Drama? Harmful opinions? You’re a rich Virginian asshole with nothing better to do then spout off whatever bullshit you decide is relevant that day. You’ve really lived up to all your potential. Good job.”

Jefferson snapped at this point, standing up and harshly poking Alexander in the chest.

“Hamilton, what the hell is your problem? Can you _really_ not have a civil conversation for five minutes?”

Alexander just smirked, plastering a on a satisfied expression as he shoved Jefferson’s hand away from him. He ignored the way his nerves seemed to buzz at the contact. He had to finish this.

“Aw, is someone getting mad? What are you so upset about, can you really not handle a couple of insults from me? After all, weren’t you the one insulting me not two months ago? Can you really not handle what you dish out?”

Jefferson’s jaw worked for a moment before he made a frustrated noise. He leaned down to roughly grab Alexander’s shoulders and glared. Alexander nearly shivered at the intensity.

“Listen up, bitch. Do you want to know why I’m concerned that you just bolted without explanation? Do you want to know why I’m actually trying to have a conversation with you? Do you want to know why I actually care about you and your wellbeing?”

Once loud, Jefferson’s voice had dropped to a mere whisper. Their faces were inches apart. Alexander felt his brain short-circuit.

“Because I love you.”

With that, Jefferson closed the gap, gently setting his lips upon Alexander’s. He felt frozen, unable to reciprocate. It was for the briefest of moments, but to Alexander it felt like an eternity. He nearly whimpered when Jefferson pulled away and straightened up again. He glanced towards the door while he ran a hand over his curls. Alexander still felt dazed after the kiss.

“I know you don’t feel the same, but I really do love you.”

Jefferson was already at the door when Alexander’s brain suddenly caught up to what happened. He launched himself off the couch as fast as he could without tripping, and nearly bowled Jefferson over in his haste to reach his side. Jefferson looked startled, to say the least. Alexander stopped him from thinking about anything by grabbing his face and surging upwards, reconnecting their lips with vigor.

They broke apart some time later, both gasping for air. Alexander’s hands had wound up around Jefferson’s neck, while Jefferson had entangled them in Alexander’s hair. Alexander rested his head on Jefferson’s chest, a muttered, _‘holy shit’_ slipping out, unbidden. He tilted his head up, eager to see his reaction. And boy, Alexander did not regret that decision. Pupils blown wide, kiss swollen lips, and an undeniably surprised expression coated Jefferson’s face, and Alexander broke out into a wide grin. His chest felt lighter than it had in months.

Jefferson seemed shell-shocked, though he had responded with equal vigor not five minutes before. He blinked, staring at Alexander. Alexander felt his smile soften.

“So, I was a little bit of a dick?” Alexander smiled sheepishly, and Jefferson seemed to snap out of it. He nodded. “Yeah. I, uh, I love you too? And I didn’t really want to deal with it? And, uh, pushing you away seemed like the best option. So I tried that. And now we’re here.”

Jefferson snorted, and removed his hands from Alexander’s hair before placing them gently on his shoulders. “Only you would think that would be a good solution.”

Alexander sniffed. “I resent that notion, Jefferson.”

Jefferson merely huffed a laugh before drawing him back in. Alexander complied easily.

When they broke apart again, Alexander felt the need to explain. A slightly pained noise made Jefferson immediately sway away, eyes rooming over Alexander worriedly. He shook his head and attempted to make the words sound as elegant as possible.

“I guess I owe you an explanation. For everything, really.”

Jefferson seemed ready to argue, but Alexander cut him off before he could try.

“It’s mostly for my own peace of mind, because I’m selfish like that. But this is stuff you need to know.”

Alexander took a deep breath and found one of Jefferson’s hands, intertwining their fingers together.

“I suffer from panic attacks, but you already knew that. They’re mostly triggered by uncontrolled crowds because I get crazy bad claustrophobia. It’s a lot worse when I don’t know the cause of the crowd. Holding hands with someone is the easiest way to ground myself, and you were the closest person there. And I fell in love with you somewhere along the way, I guess. And I figured out I had a crush on you when I ran away from you, and I couldn’t really deal with it? Mostly because I thought you wouldn’t love me back. So. Thanks for doing that. And holding my hand.”

It was silent for a few moments and Jefferson mulled the words over. He squeezed Alexander’s hand.

“I’ve had a crush on you forever, but I knew I had no chance. You’re a hurricane, Hamilton, and I could tell from day one it would take a miracle if you were to date me. So, I tried the next best thing to stay in your life. I argued and insulted you, just so I could have some interaction with you. And the day you held my hand was one of the happiest moments of my life. Thanks for holding mine, and loving me back.”

“God, we’re such idiots.”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

They smiled at one other again, before kissing sweetly. Their hands stayed interlocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's complete, and it didnt end in angst?? who am i 
> 
> anyways, on to smaller and more terrible oneshots i guess
> 
> hmu on tumblr: [fillertexted](http://fillertexted.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra chapter from tjeffs pov

Both Alexander and Jefferson were rather impatient people, so as soon as the daze of arguably the happiest moment of either of their lives had passed, they sat down to plan out how to break the news.

“We could make it Facebook official, but that’s kinda eh. Posting it on Instagram is basically a marriage proposal, in all honesty, so not the best place to first post it. Tumblr is definitely out. Maybe Snapchat?”

“Do we not want to tell people in person?”

“Well, eventually? But I’ll probably explode if I don’t post something, so take your pick.”

“Snapchat it is.”

And so, the two found themselves in the best position they could think of, with Alexander grinning widely as Jefferson pressed a kiss to his cheek. They captioned it with ‘guess who just got a boyfriend???’ and an enlarged pink swirling hearts emoji. They sent it to everyone in Alexander’s friend group, and to his story.

Soon enough, responses started to flood in, ranging from the occasional ‘congrats’ from those who barely knew Alexander, to the ‘wtf’s and ‘how r u guys not killing each other rn’s courtesy of his friends. Alexander frowned.

“So, I guess that didn’t work. Next step is Facebook?”

Making it Facebook official didn’t really improve the responses. Instead, the status was spammed with all kinds of responses, most disbelieving and asking what bet they had lost.

“Instagram?”

For this, they positioned themselves close to the window, late afternoon sun encasing them in a halo of gold, features darkened but not entirely obscured, lips pressed together. They snapped a photo, and uploaded it with the caption ‘Opposites attract’. The reactions were basically the same, though some asked if they had mistagged Lafayette. Jefferson had looked appalled at that caption.

“There is no way in hell you’re posting this on Tumblr.”

“Group chat?”

“Group chat.”

 Of course, that didn’t go down well either. The group chat was mostly used for shitposting, not serious conversations, so nothing was really gained there. Alexander huffed in frustration.

“Ok. Look, let’s just schedule a time for everyone to meet up.”

“Jefferson, I could kiss you.”

“Please do.”

 

-0-

 

 

All gathered together, the Hamilsquad consisted of Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette, the Schuyler sisters, Madison, and Burr. Though Burr would often vehemently disagree with being a member of said squad, no one questioned why he seemed to always be hovering nearby. It was just an accepted part of life, like how Hamilton and Thomas would never in a million years start dating. So, of course, the second everyone had arrived, they had all come to the conclusion that they had lost some sort of bet, and were holding hands for said bet. Oh, how wrong they were. How much Thomas craved to show them the truth.

The truth was, Thomas was head over heels in love with Hamilton. Had been since he had first seen the fiery student, had fallen even deeper when Hamilton opened his mouth to introduce himself. God, he was too much and not enough at the same time, addicting yet aggravating. Many arguments had been born out of the desire to keep Hamilton in his life, to keep him close enough that he could see him on a daily enough basis, but far enough so he couldn’t antagonize on the little domestic details he could’ve learnt had he become his friend.

Thomas had nearly cried the day Hamilton had taken his hand; he had been so full of emotion. He had quickly sobered up when he realized the cause of said impromptu hand holding, but he still felt a flicker of _something_ kicking up inside of him, and before he knew it, the quiet candle of adoration that he held in his heart for Hamilton had begun to blaze, spiraling into an uncontrolled wildfire. He had stared at Hamilton, wondering how horrifically a wildfire and hurricane would clash.

But god, did they clash wondrously. He glanced at their intertwined hands, the contact that had started this. Hamilton’s palm was slightly sweaty, probably both from nerves and the fact that they had been holding hands for quite a while. He squeezed his hand to grab his attention from where it had been glancing around the room at the gathered members. None of them were paying attention to them.

When Hamilton looked at him, his breath caught. Dark eyes were ringed with dark circles, but they were no less beautiful or breathtaking. Sharp and focused, yet soft and bright, they were akin to pools of ink, dark and staining, but capable of so much. Maybe it wasn’t a surprise to Hamilton when he leaned in, but it was probably a slap to the face of everyone in the room, if the sudden silence was anything to go by.

Hamilton pulled away, blushing furiously and playing with Thomas’ fingers, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Thomas chuckled at someone’s muttered ‘oh shit’ and shot a crooked grin to everyone in the room. It was like a dam had cracked, and in came the flood of questions, some innocent, some so invasive it left Hamilton attempting to merge with his side with a face on fire. Thomas simply put an arm around him to pull him closer. He was also pleasantly surprised by the hand that wormed across his waist to find his free hand.

Hand holding was quickly becoming one of Thomas’ favorite things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter was totally not going to exist, but the amazingly talented lafayettes_baguette gave me this idea and they deserve everything tbh, so this chapter is dedicated to them. also, [check out their work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lafayettes_baguette) its seriously so amazing and it inspires me everyday.
> 
>  
> 
> hmu on tumblr: [fillertexted](http://fillertexted.tumblr.com)
> 
> edit: this got [fanart!!!!](http://durchartist.tumblr.com/post/146953210574/i-read-this-jamilton-fic-and-it-is-so-cute-so) oh my god u have no idea how happy this makes me, this was done by [durchartist](http://durchartist.tumblr.com) please check them out!!


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